


Accidents Happen

by Rivalshipping_Archive (rivalshipping)



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Established Relationship, Face-Fucking, Fawnlock, Fluff, M/M, Olfactophilia, Scent Kink, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-04
Updated: 2013-06-04
Packaged: 2017-12-13 23:53:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/830288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivalshipping/pseuds/Rivalshipping_Archive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Fawnlock had a problem with his teeth. Not a physical problem, per say, nor a serious one. Just… a problem. Having his mouth held open for any long period of time was hard for him, and he usually ended up biting down. He tried to control it, honestly, but the fact that he couldn’t made quite a few</i> activities <i>impossible. John was not that keen to experiment with his mouth again after the last near-castration.</i></p><p>Forgive the uncreative title : ^ )</p>
            </blockquote>





	Accidents Happen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bennyslegs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bennyslegs/gifts).



> *cackles like a witch*

It was a quiet morning. The sun was out in full force, but it was still cool because of strong winds, so John added a jacket to his clothing before going outside. Fawnlock watched him from the sofa, peering over the backrest as he pulled on his shoes and picked up his keys. “Are you sure you don’t want to come?” John asked, coming closer to kiss Fawnlock’s head.

“Yes,” he replied softly. He wasn’t much of a morning person at all, but John always liked to do some activity early in the day and come home in the afternoon. Fawnlock gently clicked his teeth together, the way he did when he tried a new piece of human food that he particularly enjoyed, and nuzzled John’s chest. “Good-bye, John.” John smiled at him and left, locking the door behind him.

Fawnlock had a problem with his teeth. Not a physical problem, per say, nor a serious one. Just… a problem. Having his mouth held open for any long period of time was hard for him, and he usually ended up biting down. He tried to control it, honestly, but the fact that he couldn’t made quite a few _activities_ impossible. John was not that keen to experiment with his mouth again after the last near-castration.

That didn’t mean they couldn’t do other fun things, though. Fawnlock enjoyed smelling every part of John when he came home from being out, trying to identify if he went to town or the lake or to his sister’s house. Most of the time this would degenerate into rutting against one another until they reached satisfaction.

Fun things that John did _not_ appreciate included Fawnlock marking every part of John’s property he could reach—after a few weeks he restricted himself to the outside only—and re-marking after every heavy rain. Something about telling everyone that John was his, that no one was allowed inside John’s home without Fawnlock’s express permission, gave him a feeling not unlike orgasm. If he had to deal with John being a bit shouty for a while because of it then so be it.

The fawn slid off the sofa and stood up, smoothing the fur on his arms absently. It hadn’t rained in a while, but he had planned to mark around the garden again, because he smelled some rabbits that didn’t seem to understand that it was his territory. He went to the kitchen for his first glass of water (it was really a plastic cup, but John let him call it a glass) and drank it slowly while searching the cabinets for something sweet.

He passed the day drinking water, as any other liquid would taint his markers, and lounging around, holding John’s pillow to his chest while reading or staring out the windows. Every so often he would press his face into the soft fabric and take a deep breath, comforted by John’s sleepy-warm scent.

Fawnlock’s beginning reader book got boring sooner rather than later so he looked up out the window from his position on the floor and drained the rest of his fifth glass. The sun was at its highest point and the wind had died down, making now the perfect time to re-mark. He stood and went to the garden door, checking out the window for other animals.

His ears twitched as he felt more than heard John stepping up to the front door and sticking his key in the lock. He was tempted to go mark anyway, but he wanted to do his normal scent exploration of John while the evidence was still fresh. His ears twitched a bit more in annoyance; John coming home left him with a full bladder and spilling over with frustration.

“’Lock?” the doctor called as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Fawnlock didn’t move from his spot by the back door for a moment, nose twitching, and then he sprinted to John. After a quick visual assessment where he assured there was nothing painful or breakable in John’s hands, he pounced and knocked them both to the floor, burying his face in the warm spot between John’s shoulder and neck.

“Miss you,” Fawnlock replied, inhaling through his mouth and nose. “Went to the lake…”

John laughed, unbothered from his new supine position, and helped Fawnlock by shrugging off his jacket and beginning to unbutton his shirt. “I did. Can you guess what I did there?”

Fawnlock’s nose traveled further up to the spot behind his ear and his teeth grazed the human’s neck. “Did go in. Lit-tle swim,” he said confidently. Eventually John’s ear gave up all its secrets and he moved lower to his chest, where his curious tongue could swipe over a pale pink nipple. “In water,” he clarified, glancing up and meeting John’s eyes.

“Very true.” John smiled a bit, one hand resting on the back of Fawnlock’s neck, the other just barely brushing over the fine fur of his waist and hips. Fawnlock grinned back and moved further still, nosing shamelessly into John’s armpit and continuing to take deep breaths despite John’s laughter.

The one thing Fawnlock liked most about swimming in the lake was that it washed away any other smells John had on him. Gone was the soap, the shampoo, the sunscreen, leaving only John. Especially in Fawnlock’s favourite places. “Trousers,” he murmured. “Off.” He picked at the leg of John’s jeans, cursing his inability to work buttons and zips. John, of course, obliged, but not without rolling them over and pinning the fawn’s hands above his antlers afterward.

A third thing Fawnlock loved to do was kiss. He had never kissed anyone before John and would hopefully never kiss anyone after John, so he got all the experience he could with the human. John taught him about how to add tongue and how to avoid bumping noses and everything that could possibly be useful, and John also loved to practice.

The doctor took his time tasting Fawnlock’s mouth, bracketing his legs with his own and pressing down on him. It was becoming painful for Fawnlock to hold his urine and that was preventing him from getting hard but he ignored it for the time being, engrossed in kissing.

John was saying something that he missed so he blinked and tried to concentrate. “What?” he asked.

“I said, do you think you can do what you practiced?”

‘More kiss?’ was the first thing that popped into Fawnlock’s mind, and then he remembered the past few weeks where John had been pressing his fingers into his mouth while they fucked, helping him learn to hold his mouth open. He hadn’t bit down in a while, and now it looked like John trusted him enough for it to work.

Fawnlock stared up at John from under his eyelashes and licked his lips. “Let me sit,” he said, tugging at John’s grip on his wrists. John pecked another kiss on his lips before letting go and kneeling over Fawnlock with his knees at his hips. The fawn got as much as leaning on his elbows before John tangled his fingers in the curls at the nape of his neck, gently guiding his head up.

“Take your time,” he murmured, calm voice belied by the upward curve of his lips and aroused flush slowly spreading down his neck and chest. Fawnlock nodded and shifted up a bit, trying to smell John’s lake-cleaned groin.

He opened his mouth again to take in as much of the scent as he could, moaning as he did; John shuddered above him and he took that as invitation to, brazenly, lift John’s cock and balls aside to smell his perineum. John did start then, laughing a little in embarrassment, but Fawnlock paid him no attention, instead running his nose along the underside of John’s prick. He took the head into his mouth, brow furrowed in concentration as if comparing the smell and taste. “Ready,” he said after a few moments, opening his mouth and waiting.

John grinned lecherously, spreading his legs a bit to be low enough for Fawnlock to be able to take him in, and then pulled the fawn forward, careful not to tug on his antlers. What was once a problem in the back of Fawnlock’s mind became a full-force issue when arousal began to war with the urge to urinate. He knew that John wouldn’t be pleased if he peed on the floor, but he wasn’t sure how to tell the human without being forced to get up, and really, he was quite comfortable where he was. The head of John’s cock was brushing against his lips, waiting for entrance, and he wanted to prove to John that he had practiced enough.

Fawnlock breathed around it as best he could and swallowed saliva that threatened to spill out of his mouth and onto his chest. John’s grip in his hair never tightened and he didn’t pull, just thrust his hips shallowly in and out of Fawnlock’s mouth. “Can you take more?” John asked.

Focused on breathing, Fawnlock made a vague gesture with his shoulders and flicked his eyes up from the base of John’s cock to his face. John correctly interpreted it as a yes and thrust harder, letting his shirt completely drop from his shoulders. As usual, Fawnlock’s gaze immediately went to his scar, but he wasn’t able to touch it from this angle so he looked away again.

John had been aroused that morning and not done anything about it, so it was no surprise to Fawnlock that he was already taking deep, calming breaths to try and stave off orgasm. He wasn’t as familiar with orgasm as John was, but from what he had experienced, the longer you were aroused, the faster you came.

Even in the throes of passion, Fawnlock was a scientist. He ran his tongue experimentally down John’s cock, letting John’s own motions drag it across the sensitive skin, and watched his reaction; it was rather more spectacular than he expected. John curved forward, used his other hand to hold Fawnlock’s shoulder, and _moaned._ The fawn rather enjoyed this and sought to repeat it, bringing John to orgasm faster than he ever had with his hands.

When warm wetness spread over his own stomach and thighs, he at first thought nothing of it. His usual response to John coming was—oh.

Fawnlock scrambled away, eyes wide and bright, trails of John’s semen running down his chin, and teeth clacking softly together. His fur was soaked through with urine, from his navel downward, and he couldn’t stop the rest that was still leaking out. “Ack-dent!” he insisted, trembling despite his now half-hard cock, rising from the thatch of dark hair at his groin. “I will clean!”

John shook his head with a little bit of a smile, coming closer to Fawnlock despite the urine trail. “I know it was an accident. You were planning on marking again, weren’t you?”

Fawnlock began to shake his head but then thought better of it, tentatively nodding. “Out-side.”

The doctor blinked at him for a while, then reached out and stroked his piss-wet cock, the very thin fur on the bottom half of the shaft practically dripping with it. He immediately bucked into the odd sensation and bit his lip to hold back his pleasured groan. “It’s alright. Really.” John began to stroke in earnest, watching Fawnlock just as closely as Fawnlock had been watching him. The urine was cooling on him, adding genuine shivers to his squirmy movements, and he couldn’t help but sit up and reach forward to help. John batted his hands away and stroked faster, and Fawnlock’s pent up dissatisfaction broke in a wave over him.

Ropes of pearly cum added to the warmth in Fawnlock’s fur and he sighed, letting himself fall back. “At least you didn’t do it on the rug,” John was saying, and Fawnlock laughed once, watching John stand and reach out a hand to him. The fawn was a little wobbly on his feet and actively tried not to slip in the wetness, but John kept good hold of him and they made it into the bathroom. “Turn on the shower? I’ll be right back.”

Fawnlock did as he was asked and stood at the very back of the small shower space, waiting for John to return. When he did, he smelled even stronger of Fawnlock, especially on his hands. “Don’t wash?” he asked hopefully, holding John’s hands out of the spray of water. 

John gave him another one of his searching looks. “I have to, Fawnlock. I’m covered in urine.” Fawnlock nodded with a smirk and a tilt of his head and John exhaled sharply. “Let’s make a deal. We’ll wash now, and when your scent completely fades you can mark me again. _In the bathroom_ next time.”

Fawnlock’s smirk turned into a smile and he pressed John against the shower wall under the water. “Deal,” he murmured, once again possessively nosing at the spot behind John’s ear.


End file.
